Murky Aubade

She gets behind
a frozen waterfall
to admire the curtain of blue ice
from a safe distance in a cave.

I get an inflatable Babe
the Blue Ox wearing a leather helmet
with flannel-shirted Paul Bunyan
wielding an axe and a football.

His tongue may be sticking out—
who can tell.

She gets a corner booth
in the shade.
I get the unforgiving winter
morning sun in my eyes.

She gets everything
before the city turns snow banks
the color of a canvas tote
after too many trips to the market.

I get to be a drop of dirty water
with so many stories left to tell.

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